


This Was A Home Once

by wings_g_leviosa



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Crying, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Situations, brief flashbacks to homophobic language and violence, sonia is dead, theyve just got a lot of shit to figure out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23797567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings_g_leviosa/pseuds/wings_g_leviosa
Summary: “This is fine,” he whispered to himself once he was safely in the driver’s seat of his car. “It’s fine that Eddie probably hates me. It’s fine.”It was not fine.(In which Richie comes back to Derry for the first time in four years, and Eddie doesn't know how to leave.)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I haven't posted a new fic in suuuuuper long time, so sorry if I'm a bit rusty, but I've had this idea in the back of my mind for like a year now, and I figured quarantine was the perfect time to actually write it. I hope you all enjoy, and please leave a comment and/ or kudos! You can find me on tumblr at cacti-cool (main) or londone-fog (writing).

Richie graduated from UCLA on a sunny day in May. He smiled, shook hands, and gripped the fancy slip of paper that said he was qualified to do things related to communications and broadcast as though it would run away from him if he loosened his grip. Peers clapped his shoulders, and his mother was a teary eyed mess while asking for pictures of him and his father together. The whole thing was rather bittersweet in his opinion. 

Later that night, after Richie’s parents had gotten back on their plane to Maine, Richie was going to go back to his tiny, over-priced apartment, and put everything he hadn’t already put in a storage unit into his car. 

Richie’s job at his college’s radio station had been over the second he walked across that stage, and his lease would be up a week after that. The way the end of his last semester had gone, he hadn’t been able to get a job lined up in time for him to find a new place. So, when his mother had called a few weeks before graduation offering to let Richie come back to Derry to stay with them until he heard back from any jobs, he’d had no choice but to say yes. He packed up all his things and drove across the country to a tiny, middle of nowhere town that he hadn’t been back to in nearly four years. 

It had been four long, strange years since he’d been back to Derry, Maine. Back to the place where he used to ride his bike everywhere, where he would splash around in the quarry, where he’d met his oldest friends. It was also the place where he first learned what it was like to get the shit beaten out of him for just being who he was.

No, Richie had not been back to Derry in a very long time, and that was by design. He’d worked very hard to make sure that he stayed as far away from that town as he possibly could, and now here he was, returning back to her gaping, suffocating maw. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to any of his old friends. He was sure they were off doing important, successful things with their lives, far away from Derry. Far away from him. He couldn’t blame them. The Richie of now was very different from the Richie who ran away from Derry, and that Richie was very different from the Richie who they had befriended so long ago. 

And yet, while Richie might have changed drastically over the years, Derry had not. It was almost as if the entire town was encased in a bubble, where nothing new came in, and nothing old ever left. When Richie finally drove past the “Welcome To Derry” sign, it was just as faded and peeling as he remembered. The streets still had the same uneven asphalt that threatened to shake apart entire cars. He recalled old, dusty memories he hadn’t thought about in years driving down the streets. There was the alley where they'd patched up Ben after finding him bleeding after a run in with Bowers. There was the pharmacy, and the movie theatre, and the Paul Bunyan statue that used to scare the shit out of Richie when he was younger for reasons he no longer remembered. 

When he pulled up to his childhood home, he was almost taken aback by how little it had changed there as well. He hugged his mother when she ran out to greet him, and allowed his father to clap him on the shoulder. Together they moved his last couple of boxes into his childhood bedroom. 

This was really the only thing in the house that was significantly different. He’d either packed or gotten rid of most of his belongings when he went to college, so the walls and shelves were mostly bare. The bed had fresh, plain sheets and coverings. The room itself felt stale and unused.

“We figured it was a good idea to make this a guest room of sorts after you left,” his mother explained. “All of your things are in the closet though, in case you wanted to sort through them.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he replied, gently. 

She gave him an understanding sort of smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, Richie was left alone. 

He opened the closet door. Sure enough, most of his old comics and action figures were on the top shelf, a few old random shirts hanging from the rod. Something caught his eye, however; an old shoebox pushed into the top corner of the shelf, almost completely hidden by shadow. He reached up and pulled it down, blowing dust off the top. When he pulled off the lid, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Inside were a random assortment of cassette tapes, thrown haphazardly into the box by a much younger Richie. He pulled out the top most one, instantly recognizing the handwriting on it as Beverly Marsh’s. Bev had loved to make tapes in high school for him to play in his shitty car while they drove around town. He rubbed a thumb over the neat, loopy letters. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Bev. He suddenly missed her like a lung. 

Richie shook his head, and put the tape back in the box, placing the whole thing on the bed. He looked around at all the boxes around his room. 

He spun around until he found where he’d set his backpack down, digging in one of the side pockets until he found his rarely used Swiss Army knife. He figured he might as well start unpacking. He searched the stack of boxes to find the one labeled “clothes.”

He found it sitting at the bottom of the pile. Of course. 

He set the pocket knife down on the window sill, but something made him do a double take. On the edge, barely noticeable in the shadow, was a place on the edge of the window where the white paint had been rubbed clean off, revealing the wood underneath. 

Richie recognized this as damage from him climbing out of his window almost every night when he was younger. Climbing out his window and getting on his bike to climb into Eddie’s room without his mom noticing, to be more specific. 

He may have fallen out of touch with his childhood friends over the years, but he pointedly hadn’t spoken to Eddie since the night he left for college. He gently touched the exposed wood, remembering how his heart had been full of a peculiar, sinking feeling as he’d climbed out of this window for the last time, knowing that he was going to tell his best friend goodbye forever because he was never coming back to Derry if he could help it.  _ Yeah, and look how long that fucking lasted _ , he thought, bitterly. He turned around and set to pulling his box of clothes free, but his thoughts still swirled dangerously around his head. 

What was Eddie even up to these days?

He grabbed the pocket knife and kneeled down, pulling a blade out and digging it into the tape holding the box shut.

Was Eddie still upset at Richie? Did he even still think of him at all?

The knife caught on a snag in the tape. Richie tugged hard.

Does Eddie know that Richie lo-

The knife suddenly pulls free, gliding through the tape and sliding painfully across the tops of his fingers. Richie jumps back with a hiss, dropping the knife as blood immediately springs forth from the wound, a few drops of red dripping onto the carpet. He looked around the room, and seeing no immediate solutions, jammed his injured fingers into his mouth and rushed down the stairs to find his mother. 

“Richie, please get your hand out of your mouth,” she said as he entered the room. He pulled his fingers out with a pop. 

“Do we have any band aids?” he asks, brandishing his wound. His mother looked at his hand, shook her head, and handed him a tissue from the table next to the couch. 

“We need to go get more. What did you do?”

Richie awkwardly scratches the hair at the base of his neck. 

“I got distracted cutting open boxes.”

His mother sighed in a tired sort of way.

“I won’t even ask. You’ll have to go to the pharmacy or something. Do you remember the way?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back,” he said, wrapping the tissue around his fingers and grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. 

The drive to the pharmacy was a short one. 

The bell above the door chimed the same tone that it always had. Richie made a beeline for the aisle with the sign ‘bandages’ advertised above it, and quickly scanned the shelves for the bandaids. He found them and turned, speed walking to the checkout counter. He set the box down with a little too much force, which startled the clerk behind the counter. 

“Find everything okay?” the clerk asked, his voice slightly shaky and… familiar?

Richie looked up. He made eye contact with a pair of warm brown eyes surrounded by dark circles and the remnants of what might have once been freckles long ago. Eyes that he recognized as belonging to-

“Eddie?”

Eddie looked taken aback, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Richie? What the hell are you doing here?”

The situation immediately felt strange to Richie. What the hell was Eddie doing in Derry?

“Uh, buying bandaids? I cut my hand, I guess.” He held up his injured hand to punctuate his point. Eddie’s eyes drifted to the bloody tissue, then snapped back to Richie with a look of confusion. He slowly reached over to scan the bandaids, gaze never leaving Richie’s face. He looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing  _ here _ ? In  _ Derry _ ?” The last word came out as a sort of half hiss, half whisper. 

“I could ask you the same question.”

Eddie blinked, like he didn’t hear him. Richie sighed.

“I’m in town until I hear back from a job in Cali,” he reluctantly answered. He wrestled a few loose bills out of his back pocket and slid them over in a wad. Eddie took them numbly and looked down to count them. Richie took the time to really examine this older Eddie.

First of all, he looked so tired. The circles under his eyes were a dark, bruise like purple. His shoulders were slumped forward, like he was struggling to hold himself up. His skin was paler than Richie remembered, like Eddie spent all of his time inside, away from any kind of sunlight. He looked like a deflated version of the loud, neurotic boy that Richie used to know. 

But, despite his pallad exterior, Richie saw the sharp glint in his eye that he’d recognize anywhere. The glint that showed how quick witted he was, how he was always thinking. His mouth quirked in the way that showed he was uncomfortable.

Was Richie making him uncomfortable?

“So, uh, how’s Ms. K? I’m sure she’ll be glad to know that I’m back in town.”

Eddie’s face turned a peculiar shade of red. 

“She died about a month ago, actually, but thank you for asking.” His tone was calm and even, but Richie could tell he was pissed. 

_ Way to go Trashmouth _ , he thought.  _ You’ve barely been talking and you’ve already ruined everything.  _

“Oh… I had no idea.”

“Yeah, how would you?” Eddie’s tone was very flat.

Richie’s mouth felt suddenly dry. His bandaids were thrust back across the counter. He grabbed them, almost having completely forgotten about why he’d come in in the first place. He turned to leave, but thought better of it. 

“I’m sorry for your loss. It’s good to see you, Eddie.” 

Eddie looked up. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you around Richie.”

He did not sound like he had any intention of seeing Richie around. Richie just nodded and walked out the door and back to his car.

“This is fine,” he whispered to himself once he was safely in the driver’s seat of his car. “It’s fine that Eddie probably hates me. It’s fine.”

It was not fine.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In fact, the only thing Eddie had been able to think about the past month was a singular question: what the fuck do I do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the overwhelming support! I'll try to update every couple of days. I am still planning some of the later chapters so I need to get that figured out before I write much more. Please leave kudos and shoot me a comment, and you can find me on tumblr at cacti-cool (main) or londone-fog (writing).
> 
> Thank you to my beta reader momochannie, go give her stuff a read!

It wasn’t until well after the sun had gone down that Eddie made it home from work. The weather had been nice that day, so he’d decided to walk to work. But, after working all day, he was regretting his decision. 

He walked up the driveway to his childhood home, unlocking the door and toeing off his shoes by the mat. The whole house was dark and eerily quiet, as it had been every day for the past month. A small part of him had still expected to walk in and see his mother sitting in her chair, reruns of game shows playing quietly from the ancient television set. 

And yet, he stood in the foyer, more alone than he had felt in his entire life. 

His mother had died only a month ago. Heart attack. It didn’t come as much of a surprise. For as overly concerned for his health as she had been, she didn’t seem to care much about her own. The implications of that fact were not something Eddie had the energy to unpack. 

In fact, the only thing Eddie had been able to think about the past month was a singular question: what the fuck do I do now? 

Eddie had left Derry around the same time as all of his friends, determined to run away to New York and only come back to his hometown in extreme emergencies. And he’d managed to, for a while anyway. But then, the second semester of his second year at NYU, he’d received a phone call from his mother. 

“What do you mean you want me to come home?” Eddie had asked, clutching the phone in his hand so hard he felt the plastic creak.

“The doctor says that I have to have someone around to take care of me. I can’t stand the thought of having some stranger around the house.” His mother’s voice was pleading, watery with how close to tears she sounded. 

“I’m at school, Mom. I can’t just pick up and leave.”

“Sweetheart, it’ll only be for a little while, at least until I start feeling better. You don’t want me all alone in this house wasting away, do you?”

“No, of course not, but New York-”

Sonia suddenly started crying, hard. Her sobs were crackly and warped through the phone audio.

“You don’t care about me! You only care about that damn school of yours! I thought after everything I’ve done for you, you would actually be willing to repay your poor ailing mother. This is not the man I raised you to be.” She continued on, throwing a barrage of guilt his way. The worst part was, he could feel it working.

“Alright, alright. I.. I’ll figure something out. I have my last final tomorrow, so I can try to come up for a while.”

The sobbing stopped almost immediately. 

And so, Eddie made plans to take a semester off from NYU. He loaded up what little belongings he had into his little car, and drove home to Derry, Maine. 

A small, sinister part of Eddie’s brain couldn’t help but wonder if she was faking. He didn’t imagine that she was above it, considering how much she was willing to lie to him about his own health when he was little. But nothing could have prepared him for the woman that he saw when he walked back into his childhood home that day. His mother had always been large, and she still was, but she looked pale, like life was being slowly drained from her. Her breathing was slightly labored, and her movements were at a snail’s pace when she even felt like getting out of her chair. 

Eddie told himself that he would stay until she started feeling better. And yet, she never did.

His semester long break came and went. He made the decision to forgo registration for the spring semester. He saw a help wanted sign the next time he went into the local pharmacy. He surprised himself when he asked for an application. He stopped getting calls from his friends at college. He stopped getting calls from anyone. 

Two years went by in a blur of work, and his mother, and doctors, and lying awake at night being unable to sleep. But then, one night while they were eating dinner together, she had a heart attack. Eddie barely remembers anything from that night. He remembers calling 911, the siren sound as he rode in the back of the ambulance, the swallowing silence of the waiting room. 

She died in the hospital that night. 

Eddie just felt very numb about everything that happened after. He barely registered the will reading, where he was told his mother left everything to him. He barely remembered making arrangements for her funeral. He didn’t even feel sad, not really. Just numb.

He was filling out a measly stack of funeral invitations when he got the phone call. 

“Hello?” He was sure it was some random well wisher from in town, calling to say that they were sorry for his loss. 

“Eddie? It’s Bill.”

Eddie was shocked to his core. He had heard from his old friends here and there, but not often enough for it to be significant. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard Bill’s voice.

“Hey, man. What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in forever.”

“Not much. Just been trying to keep up with college and all of that.” He heard Bill swallow awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to say what he was planning on saying next. “My mom called me the other day and told me what happened with your mom.”

Eddie closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall. 

“Yeah. It was gonna happen sooner or later. She’s been really sick these past couple of years.”

They were quiet for a moment. Eddie suddenly felt wide awake for the first time since he left New York. 

“So what are you going to do now? Are you going to go back to school, or…?”

Eddie shocked himself with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I… I have no idea.”

The hot tears were rushing down his cheeks before he could even think to stop them.

He and Bill talked for a long time that night.

Bill called the next day again to say that he got a hold of most of the losers, and that they were all coming to his mother’s funeral to support him. 

All of them, he assured, except Richie.

And sure enough, all of them made an appearance at the ceremony. 

Except Richie. 

For four years, nobody had been able to get in contact with Richie.

Until that day.

Eddie dug around in his fridge, looking in the various containers for the specific leftovers he was craving. There had been several casseroles left on the doorstep in the week directly after his mom’s death, but most of them had already been eaten. He finally found what he was looking for; leftover noodles from the one Chinese take out place in Derry. He put it in the microwave and leaned against the counter, staring at the wall. 

He focused on the red wall phone and the sheet of paper next to it. On it was a list of six phone numbers. One for each of the losers, so he could call any of them if he needed anything.

Except Richie. 

Eddie groaned softly and scrubbed his face, running his fingers against his scalp and gently tugging on his hair. He looked at the time on the stove clock, decided it didn’t matter, and strode over to the phone, punching in the number listed next to ‘Bev.’ She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, Beverly Marsh speaking.”

“It’s Eddie.”

He heard her smile over the phone. 

“Eddie, how are you? We haven’t talked in almost a week, I was starting to get worried.” He heard the characteristic squeak of her desk chair. He could picture her at her desk in her and Ben’s apartment in Chicago. 

“I’m fine. Just working, trying to figure what to do with the rest of Mom’s stuff.”

That of course was a lie. Everything looked almost untouched from when his mother still lived there. He hadn’t even started trying to figure out what to do with all of it. 

“Really? I mean, that’s great. It's just a lot, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“So, have you thought anymore about what your plans are after you get everything done?”

That was that thing; he hadn’t thought about that either. A small part of him knew he was rationalizing not making any future plans because his mother’s things still had to be dealt with. But it was probably just the other way around. 

The microwave dinged, and Eddie walked over to get it, stretching the phone cord behind him. 

“Um… I’m kind of dealing with one thing at a time right now. I’m sure I’ll get it figured out by the time I sell the house.”

Was he planning on selling the house?

“I’m sure you will. Everything will work out.”

“Yeah.” He sat on the floor under the phone, poking at his dinner with a fork with his back against the wall. “So, uh, something really weird happened at work today.”

“Oh yeah? Did Mrs. Anderson try to set you up with her niece again?”

Eddie leaned his head back against the wall, wrapping and unwrapping the phone cord around his finger.

“No, uh, Richie came in. To the pharmacy, I mean.”

Bev’s chair abruptly stopped squeaking. 

“Richie Richie? Like, Richie Tozier? The one who’s been giving us radio silence for the last couple years?”

“Yup.” He holds the word out, popping the P at the end. 

“Wh-... What did he say? Did he come to apologize or anything?”

Eddie set his food aside, running his hand through his hair. 

“No. He, uh… he cut his hand? I guess he’s back with his parents until he hears back about a job. In California, I mean.”

Bev was quiet for a moment. 

“Are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie took a fluttery breath, trying not to let the tears pricking his eyes fall down his cheeks. 

“Yeah… yeah. I’m fine.”

“At least you don’t have to see him around, right? And, he’s only there for a little while.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Derry can’t be that small, can it?”

It could. And it was.

That night, Eddie went to bed after hanging up the phone, convinced that that day was the last he would see of Richie Tozier.

Eddie saw him the next day at the grocery store. He turned around in the dairy aisle and nearly ran into him. 

“Whoa, slow down there Eds.”

Eddie seethed.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He pushed past him and screamed at the top of his lungs once he got back to his car. 

Richie came into the pharmacy. He was walking down the street. He was at the store. He was everywhere, and Eddie seemingly couldn’t get rid of him. 

And he always wanted to talk. 

He yelled his name when he saw him driving, he tried to chat in the pharmacy. It was just like when they were kids, but much, much worse. 

He plagued Eddie’s dreams too. Every night was full of Richie’s quips and his crooked smile he used any time he could tell he got under Eddie’s skin. But then that smirk transformed to a grimace, and he was yelling, madder than Eddie had ever seen him. 

_ You don’t get to say that to me, you have no idea the shit I’ve been through! _

Eddie woke up in a cold sweat after having that same dream every night for a few days. His room was dark, the moon shining through the undressed window. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand; the red numbers confirmed it was 1:00 am. He swung his legs out from under the covers, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He had a peculiar sort of energy coursing under his skin; he felt as though he was humming. There was no way he was going to fall back asleep anytime soon. 

So he did what he usually did when he couldn’t sleep. He pulled on his pair of jeans from earlier, and a sweatshirt from his closet. He walked downstairs, tugged on his shoes, locked the door behind him, and started walking

The streets were deadly silent, like Derry itself was holding its breath. He walked until he found the specific footpath he was looking for; the way towards the quarry. He walked there often when he couldn’t sleep. He liked hearing the sounds of the water, and the breeze moving through the leaves in the trees surrounding it. 

It was a time when he felt truly calm and alone. 

However, when Eddie walked onto the pebbly beach of the quarry that night, he was not alone. Sitting with his feet in the water was-

“Richie? 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derry was one of those small towns where outsiders might pass through and think “Oh, this place is so quaint!” and then come through the other side and never think about it again. But Derry, like most small towns, was only nice on the surface. Especially in Richie’s mind, as someone who had grown up there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for brief homophobic language and mild violence
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support. Sorry this one took so long to come out, but I've been spending all my time finishing up finals. I'll be posting on a more regular schedule now. Keep the kudos and comments coming, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Thank you so much to Sarah, my wonderful beta. Without you, this story wouldn't be happening.

The stars were very bright that night. LA hadn’t really lent much opportunity to see the stars while Richie was at college. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed them until he saw them again.

He was at the quarry, laying on his back on the pebbled beach, listening to the sound of the water lap gently over the shore. He hadn’t been out here in years.

It was better than being at home at least. 

Richie had unpacked all of his essentials earlier that day, and just been laying around the house with nothing to do. He considered going out to the store or somewhere else around town, but he always managed to run into Eddie everywhere he went. 

Staying at home wasn’t much better. Both of his parents seemed like they were trying too hard to give him his own space, while also hovering where they thought he couldn’t see him. Especially his mother. She would try to make casual conversation with him at random times of the day, and the topic always managed to work it’s way back to whether or not he’d heard back from any jobs yet. 

That was why he’d worked his way to the quarry that night. He needed something to do; he needed to be alone.

Richie scanned the sky for recognizable constellations. He found the big dipper almost immediately, and lifted his finger to trace it. He used to love looking at the stars when he was younger, laying in his backyard or looking out his window. It had been a big comfort for him, then.

Derry was one of those small towns where outsiders might pass through and think “Oh, this place is so quaint!” and then come through the other side and never think about it again. But Derry, like most small towns, was only nice on the surface. Especially in Richie’s mind, as someone who had grown up there.

His friends had of course had all faced their own fair share of bullying during their school days. Bill stuttered and had a brother who had been found dead when they were in middle school. Ben was a fat kid, and was still seen as a new kid even though he’d lived in Derry for quite some time by the time they all went their separate ways. Stan was Jewish and loved birds. Mike was black in a small town where prejudice ran deep. Beverly ran with boys and had developed an unfounded reputation of being a slut. Eddie was small and had a mother who coddled him.

But Richie was bullied for something that was maybe not as unfounded as he liked to claim. 

He remembered a fateful day when he was 13. He had been at the arcade, like he often was at that age. He’d had a friend, Connor, that he’d play games with when Eddie’s mom wouldn’t let him out. 

He kept catching himself looking over at Connor that day while they played Streetfighter. He laughed at Richie’s jokes, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest, like a foreign hand had plunged between his ribs and squeezed his heart like a dish sponge. 

And if Richie’s fingers lingered when Connor handed him a token for the next game… well, he tried not to think about it. 

But then Richie begged for another game, and Connor’s eyes changed to a look of confusion and slight disgust. Before he knew it, Henry Bowers emerged from the shadows, his posse flanking him from the sides. Blood pounded in Richie’s ears, ringing drowning out everything Bowers yelled. He slowly backed away, seeking escape, but Bowers just stalked closer and closer. Then he said something that made his blood run cold. 

“You better run, you little faggot.”

He did as he was told. He turned around and sped walked out the door of the arcade. He tried to slow his breathing. Bowers said that sort of thing to everyone, Richie wasn’t special, nobody would suspect a thing.

But then Richie heard the sound of footsteps following him, and he knew without looking that Bowers was following him. He turned into the alleyway and started running, making a fruitless but valiant attempt to get away. 

Bowers caught up about halfway down the alley, grabbing Richie by the arms and tossing him to the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him. He tried to scramble back up, but his head was knocked back with a punch from Patrick Hockstetter. His glasses flew off of his face and landed with a sick crunch to the ground under him. 

For what like hours, Henry, Patrick, Belch, and Vic all wailed on him. He felt blood gush from his nose, and he must have bitten his tongue because his mouth was full of the metallic taste he knew all too well. Richie tried his hardest not to cry; he didn’t want it to get any worse.

Bowers must have grown bored at some point. He caught the attention of the other boys, aimed one last well placed kick to Richie’s side, and spit on his shirt. 

“You better watch yourself next time, fag.”

Richie waited until the sound of their footsteps faded away before he finally sat up, gently patting the ground around him until he found the plastic frames of his glasses. Luckily, they weren’t broken. He blew dust off the lenses and set them gently on his swollen nose, hissing gently between his teeth. He shakily stood, spit blood out of his mouth, and walked out of the alley.

He ran into someone as soon as he rounded the corner. Richie jumped back, his heart leaping into his throat, but to his surprise it was only Eddie. 

“Eddie, you scared me, Jesus Christ.”

“Watch where you’re going next- whoa, what the fuck happened to your face?”

Richie felt heat rise to his cheeks. He rubbed the toe of his sneaker into the pavement. 

“I, uh, ran into Bowers. You know how it is.”

Eddie silently reached up and removed Richie’s glasses, looking at the swollen bridge of his nose and the blood still bleeding weakly from his nostril. A small voice in the back of Richie’s mind worried self consciously that someone would see them, but all he could focus on was the knit of concern between Eddie’s eyebrows and the thud of his heartbeat in his ears. Eddie replaced his glasses, reached into his fanny pack for a tissue, and handed it to Richie. 

“For your nose. It doesn’t look broken, but you should come back to my house so I can help you clean up before your mom sees.”

Richie wanted to make a joke, but his mind was uncharacteristically blank. He just nodded instead of replying. Especially after what Bowers had said to him, he didn’t want his mom asking questions. 

So they went to Eddie’s house, scaling the stairs before Eddie’s mom could ask any questions. Eddie patted peroxide on his scrapes, putting bandaids on his elbows from where he’d fallen.

“What did you say to piss him off this time?”

Richie’s chest seized. For the second time that day, he’d felt tears prick at his eyes. 

“I asked if his mom…” A single tear slipped down his cheek. He started again. “I...” His throat itched, closing as his tears kept springing forward. He wiped them away with the heels of his hands, but they just kept coming and coming.

“He called me a fag.” 

He expected Eddie to laugh at him, but instead he felt arms gently wrapping around him. He hid his face in Eddie’s neck, breath stuttering as he cried quietly.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he whispered quietly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie whispered back, hugging him tighter. 

The sudden sound of a twig snapping slammed Richie back to the present. He sat up straight, his body coiled tighter than a spring. He whipped around to look behind and around him.

“Richie?”

He turned toward the voice, surprised to see Eddie standing there. They regarded each other silently for a moment, waiting to see who would break first. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Eddie asked, his voice slightly cold.

“I could ask you the same question,” Richie replied, his eyebrow arched in surprise. 

Eddie stared at him, sighed, and shockingly moved to sit next to Richie. His face looked even more gaunt and tired in the moonlight, and there was something sad about the way he carried himself. He was a shell of the sharp tongued, high-strung boy that Richie had grown to know and love. 

He looked too tired to fight being around Richie.

They sat in silence together, staring out at the murky water for a small eternity. Richie picked at a hole in the thigh of his jeans.

“What has you out so late?” Richie asked quietly, subconsciously scared that he might scare Eddie off.

“Nightmare.” Eddie tented his hands over his nose and closed his eyes. “I’ve been having them a lot recently. I usually walk out here when I can’t sleep.”

Richie nodded in understanding. Eddie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“What about you? Got bored sitting around at home?”

“Sort of. My mom won’t stop asking me if I’ve heard back from any jobs yet. I just needed to get away for a little while.”

“A job in Cali?” Eddie’s voice was light, like he was trying to sound blaise. 

“Yea. I applied to a few places, but none of them start for another few weeks. I didn’t have a place till then, so I just came back here until I hear back.”

Eddie nodded, pointedly training his eyes on the water. Richie cleared his throat.

“You must have graduated recently too, huh? I mean obviously, you’d be in New York otherwise.”

Eddie suddenly tensed next to him, clenching his hands.

“Um, no, actually.” He swallowed. “I had to leave to take care of my mom a few years ago.”

Richie mentally kicked himself.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

“Oh, um, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you wouldn’t have any way of knowing, I guess.” He relaxed just a bit. “NYU was great, but it’s not like I had any super close friends I had to leave behind.” He paused for a moment, like he was choosing his words very carefully. “I guess there was something missing.”

“I know what you mean.”

Eddie swiveled to look at him, something strange but not unfriendly in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yea. UCLA was fun, and the people in my major were cool. Tried dating and all of that but nothing ever stuck. I just kinda felt like I was on the outside looking in, y’know?”

Eddie smiled, a small, secret thing.

“Y’know, I think I do.”

They talked a little longer, laying down on the beach. Conversation flowed easy, like deep down they were still the same dorky kids who had nothing but each other. Richie’s cheeks warmed as he listened to Eddie talk about work at the pharmacy and it’s annoying customers. He couldn’t help but stare at the curve of his bottom lip, how the moon reflected off of his hair, how shadow pooled in the hollow below his neck.

Eddie eventually looked down at the watch on his wrist. 

“It’s really late. I should head back home.”

Richie shot up, holding his hand out to Eddie.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Eddie smiled, and took his hand.

The walk back to Eddie’s house was a silent one, but not uncomfortable like it had been before. 

They stepped up onto the porch, the dim light shining over them.   
  
“It was good to see you,” Richie said quietly, almost shy.

“Yeah, it was.”

Richie suddenly jolted, patting his pockets until he felt a receipt crinkle in his pocket. He pulled it out, trying to make it smooth. Funnily enough, it was the receipt from the first time he’d run into Eddie at the pharmacy. 

“Do you have a pen?”

Eddie quirked an eyebrow, but opened the door to grab one from the table in the foyer. Richie pulled the cap off with his teeth and scribbled his number on the paper, handing both the pen and the number to Eddie.

“We should hang out again. If you want, I mean.”

Eddie gingerly took the receipt.

“Sounds great.”

They waved their goodbyes, and Richie started back home.

Joy and confusion and deep regret warred for dominance in his chest, and he prayed that it wouldn’t spill out.


End file.
